


Kings and Curses

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Ab Aeterno [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Best Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, Historical Fantasy, Immortality, Knight Stiles, M/M, Magic, Manipulation, Medieval, Prince Scott, ProScott, Sciles, Violence, sceo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 05:38:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4734578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a kingdom far away from a forgotten time, a young prince and his knight learned the price of immortality was happiness.  A thousand years in the future, Detective Stiles Stilinski is hot on the trail of a twisted serial killer, aided by Scott McCall, a young man from out of state, and hindered by his raging libido.</p><p>A love story across lifetimes and throughout history between two idiot best friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kings and Curses

Scott didn’t remember the details of his face, someone pale and grinning. The eyes though, those lingered in the furthest memories from so many lifetimes ago. They burned with intelligence and the promise of trouble. Mischief like firelight in amber brown. That was something he could never forget.

His kingdom was small, nestled between mountains and speckled with glittering lakes like a necklace around its borders. Peaceful and prosperous, it was a center of trade and art under the fair rule of its Queen, Melissa. Scott grew up in luxury, a prince protected from the outside world. He didn’t remember the name of his kingdom anymore or where to find it on a map. The only thing left of his mother was the fleeting impression of her voice and a sense of absolute love. Of his father, there was nothing.

He grew up racing through twisting stone corridors and barreling head first into trouble, ignoring his rank or future role as king. There was a boy there, his best friend that he chased after as they stole pies from the kitchen and tried to catch birds in the tower. The son of his mother’s chief house guard. It didn’t matter what his name was then, it always changed, but Scott knew what to call him now.  _Stiles_.

“Come ON!” Stiles said impatiently, wiggling his fingers at the prince. “You’re always so slow.”

“I’m coming, geez.” Scott looked both ways, checking the hallways for the ever present guards before sneaking out of the window and landing in a heap on top of his friend. “Oops.”

Stiles squawked, flailing bony limbs as he was squashed under the other boy’s weight. “You’re killing me!”

“Oh, you’re fine.” The prince grinned, cupping Stiles’s face in grubby hands and placing a kiss on the end of his nose. A quick and stolen affection that left the boy turning a mottled, splotchy red. “What was this thing you wanted to show me?”

“Uh, yeah. T-this, um. Shut up.” He shoved Scott off and rolled to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes. Grabbing hands, he pulled the prince through the castle grounds to the stables where his treasure lay wrapped in old rags and hidden beneath bales of hay. Scott made appropriately shocked faces as Stiles pulled out the two worn wooden practice swords and swung them through the air with a flourish.

“Didn’t your Dad say we weren’t ready to start using these in training yet? People can get really hurt if you’re not careful.”

“Then we be careful. I know you’ve been practicing and if I’m going to join the ranks of knight, I need to be one of your best warriors, your highness. How else am I supposed to protect you?”

Scott rolled his eyes and reached for one of the swords. “I don’t need you to protect me, Stiles.”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t.”

They sparred the whole afternoon until they were both purple with bruises and sore. Neither one of them could hide what they’d been doing, but they were unrepentant as they faced down the chief guardsman’s disapproving scowl. Even the punishment couldn’t stick. A week without each other meant nothing when they could slip out of bed and through old abandoned passageways that riddled the castle walls. When the servants came to rouse them in the morning, they found the prince and his littlest knight curled together, sleeping defiantly in silk sheets.

Off all the things Scott forgot over the years, there was one memory that stayed. He held on to it tightly, refusing to let go when so much else had slipped away. A warm summer evening as the sun dipped low at the edge of the horizon, painting the fields with gold. Two boys, awkward in their teenage years, who trailed bare feet through the pond by the village nestled in the shadow of his mother’s castle. It was the moment things had changed, though they’d never put words to it before. Stiles had looked at him with those eyes that sent shivers racing down his skin, humor and anticipation mixed with something new. Something sharp and deliberate in the way Stiles dragged his tongue across his lips.

They fumbled at first with breathless laughter as they gave up on pride in the rush to be close. He could almost feel the weight of his best friend as they kissed, mouth parted in a surprised gasp. He pulled Stiles in, rolling back on soft grass as the sky deepened in blues and purples. Hands found their way under clothes, breeches tossed aside as they explored each other wrapped in darkness. Years later as the world changed in more ways than Scott could understand, he replayed that one night when he was alone in the dark.

The details were lost, but there were perfect years. Stiles earned his suit of armor, fighting in the name of his prince and winning the right to stand beside him as his personal guard. Scott learned the art of diplomacy and the intricacies of rule. He was a gentle man with a gilded tongue and a dedication to his people that made his mother proud. His days were spent at his mother’s side, handling the management of his kingdom, and his nights stripped away the crown as he tumbled with his best friend as eager as any commoner.

He remembered being happy. It was harder and harder to know what that felt like anymore.

Life ended with a clatter of hooves against flagstones and a prince on a white horse. Stiles scowled as Prince Theodore Raeken’s retinue arrived at their palace, keeping his place at his friend’s side as Scott welcomed their guests. The Raekens were a powerful family and their lands bordered the Scott’s own, but there were dark rumors about their eldest son. His smile was too sharp, the line of his jaw cruel. People who crossed him had a way of disappearing forever and his rivals counted themselves lucky if they escaped with ruined fortunes and their lives. Scott had been willing to trust, it was the best and worst parts of him. People were always given the chance to prove themselves on their own merit.

Theodore Raeken was not a name Scott thought he would ever forget.

“Please, call me Theo,” the prince had laughed the first time they met, standing tall and proud. Scott wondered if he’d been disappointed by their first meeting. Despite his distaste for gossip, it was impossible to completely avoid, and Theo had none of the fangs or claws the grapevine promised. He laughed easily and freely, and was kind to both his servants and his host’s. His quick wit won him many admirers in Melissa’s court, especially once he promised a challenge for the crown prince’s silver tongue.

“What amuses you so, Theo?” Scott asked, after one of their more heated debates, one that ended with renegotiated trade taxes. “You can’t tell me you’re rethinking our arrangement?”

Something about the other man’s grin gave him pause. Scott couldn’t say what, but it was easy to forget, when Theo’s laugh lit his entire countenance. “Nothing, nothing. It’s simply been a while, since anything has been taken from me.”

“Taken? I assure you, our agreement is nothing but fair.”

“I know, Scott. I know.”

They could argue over anything, the best colored horses and the sweetest fruits to the fastest routes of travel through the isles. Prince Theo was a welcome ally, until his true motives were revealed.

“Marry?!” Stiles demanded, throwing open the door’s to the prince’s private chambers without so much as a knock. “He wants to marry you?! Did you know anything about this?! You can’t - you can’t possibly want this!”

“It’s not about want, Stiles.” Scott said, dejected and tired, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. Theo had gone directly to the queen, suggesting a political marriage with so many benefits, but Stiles was kneeling in front of him, his hands on Scott’s knees.

“Then don’t do it. Don’t do it, Scott. Just run away with me. We can be out of the kingdom before dawn hits if we ride hard. Don’t-”

“Stiles… You know I can’t leave.” He watched his best friend’s expression crumble as he gently brushed his knuckles down the knight’s face. His stomach tied in knots as he held Stiles close. There were things he couldn’t ask of him, things that wouldn’t be fair. They knew that they’d always have to face this, but neither of them ever believed it. “If… Are you going to go?”

Too many years had passed since that moment, and Scott couldn’t remember exactly what was said, but he remembered desperation and anger under the knight’s hands. He remembered everything falling apart under the searing promise of his touch. He remembered swearing that everything was going to be all right.

Promises were always meant to be kept and even if he didn’t know the words, the intent had always been clear. Scott’s duty was to his family and to his people with no regard for what he wanted, but his heart always belonged to a grinning boy that had grown up beside him. Freedom was an idea he couldn’t let himself think about, not when so many people in the kingdom were counting on him to make this alliance with the Raekens. Scott kept a small bundle of clothes and money shoved under his bed every night and wished he was selfish enough to take it, grab Stiles by the hand, and run towards adventure and hardship and a new life. Was it really a sense of responsibility that made him stay, or was it fear?

When Scott pledged his hand to Theo in a lavish ceremony thrown open to all the people in their lands, Stiles remained at his side even with every incentive to leave. The prince just hoped that Stiles knew all the vows he mumbled to his betrothed were meant for someone else.

The knight remained at his post even though the smiles his prince and the Raeken exchanged cut deeper than any blade. If Scott could choose to uphold his duty to his people, then Stiles could hold fast to his duty to his best friend. No gold digging power-hungry lordling was going to hurt Scott or take over the kingdom with his charm, not if Stiles had anything to say about it.

Scott soothed away his jealousy in stolen moments in dark corridors and in the hidden passageways they’d used as children to cause havoc around the castle. Another man might have claimed his hand, but in the night when the castle was quiet, those hands were for Stiles alone. There was a new desperate edge to the way they came together now, no more lazy days spent in each other’s arms dreaming about possibilities under a setting summer sun. Every touch was needy, every gasp muffled and hushed. Each “ _I love you_ ”all the more precious when it had to be said in secret. It was never enough.

Days settled into a blurring rhythm and so many years later, Scott mourned that he couldn’t pick each moment apart. So many lost seconds and brief smiles that had all meant so much at the time. It was just life, something to carry and survive. They were too young then to realize it could ever end. Melissa’s death shattered that illusion, the first true loss that Scott had ever known and everything changed. The coronation ceremony was quickly planned to keep the kingdom from turmoil, but when the guests left and Scott was alone with the crown weighing down against his skull, all he could do was cover his face with his hands and cry.

His husband came to him then, with a gentle hands and a sad smile, and Scott didn’t know why he was surprised. Theo had been nothing but kind to him since he’d arrived. Their union was celebrated throughout their lands. Trade was well. The kingdoms prospered. If not for the Queen’s untimely illness, there would whispers of a new golden age.

Scott thought his spouse kind for keeping his distance and biting his curiosity. The knight thought the Raeken a fool, and Stiles had a tongue sharper than most snakes. When the king’s consort was brought up, all they could do was disagree.

“You think he doesn’t see you leaving? Or do you think he’s too stupid to notice an empty bed?” Stiles’s fingers dug into Scott’s hips, promising bruises that the king wouldn’t be able to explain away, but he never stopped being demanding, not over this. He gave with all his heart, cold and black though it may have been, and for the first time in their lives, Scott wasn’t able to do the same.

“Stiles not now. Not now!” It didn’t matter how much Scott bit back, not when part of him always believed he deserved his comeuppance. Stiles could be so cruel.

“Does he know you don’t want him? Does he know he can’t have you? All his land, all his wealth and he can’t have you?!”

The pain was exquisite, overwhelming and devouring. Stiles burned like a brand beneath his skin, and sometimes they liked it best when all Scott could do was scream.

“Don’t do that again,” Scott said, afterwards, beaten down and aching as he tried to put himself back together. He could remember Stiles’s derision so clearly.

“Why? He’s a waste of space who can’t see past his own nose. The question is, what do you see in him, Scotty? It’s amazing he can do anything right.“

“He’s good at his job. You have to respect him for that, just - just leave it.”

“No really. What? What is it?” Stiles always needed to push. A solid punch only made him fight harder. “Doesn’t he bore you, Scott or does he make you sick? I don’t know how you stand being around that pompous moron. Do you keep him in court because he looks good enough on his knees?”

“That’s enough Stiles! He’s a good king, and you’re just mad that you can’t be!”

Scott apologized then, and Stiles was quick to forgive him in the way he was with no one else, but the damage had been done for there was nothing more painful than the truth. It was funny how quickly things could unravel, the same humor a man accurately predicting his own death could have. 

“Are you spending more time with your knight?” Theo asked.

Scott looked up sheepishly. It would have been incredibly naïve to think that Theo hadn’t noticed, impossible after Stiles’s outburst, but they’d never spoken about it before. It was some silent arrangement that threatened to tip over the moment it was examined too closely. “I’m sorry-” Scott started, but the other man cut him off with a wave of his hand and an understanding smile.

“He’s your best friend, Scott. No one’s going to make you give him up, I know he’s been there to support you since the beginning. It’s okay. That’s one less thing you need to worry about.” He sat beside his husband, a comforting presence that Scott could lean against when the world felt like it was crushing down on him. Theo slipped an arm around his waist, pulling the other young man close so he wouldn’t be alone and Scott rested in relief against him.

“It’s complicated.” That was an easy lie. What was between Scott and his knight was the simplest thing in the world, it was everyone else who made it into something impossible.

“You have so much resting on you. It’s not fair to add on anything more with trying to adjust to the throne and running the kingdom and your mother. You need a friend who will be there to support your decisions no matter what. Someone who won’t make things harder.” Scott didn’t say anything as Theo slipped concern laced venom into the King’s ear. He reached out for his husband’s hands, rubbing careful thumbs against the blatant dark bruises across his wrists. “You need at least one person who isn’t going to hurt you.”

“And that’s supposed to be you?” Scott asked quietly.

“I thought we were talking about Stiles. Isn’t it him?”

Another question without an answer that burrowed itself into his chest like an angry animal. Stiles never meant to hurt him, not in any way they both didn’t want, but Scott needed everyone to come together if he was ever going to hold the kingdom. He couldn’t rule if his own house was divided and he couldn’t be a king when his own knights didn’t respect his consort. They had to be a team, it was the only way to maintain the peace, and that meant even Stiles would have to bow his head and acknowledge his lords for the good of everyone. If his stupid pride would ever let him.

It took years before hindsight offered a clearer picture, but it was about that time when things started to change. A king was never lacking in responsibility to his people, but his days seemed to have gotten shorter. There was never enough time for anyone. Finding the chance to be alone with his best friend had always been difficult, but then, Theo started asking for simple things, always. He never made demands, not of his husband, but Scott was always inclined to indulge him, motivated by guilt and his own sense of duty. Back then, the king didn’t understand why Stiles was suddenly cold and defensive, even on the few moments they could steal away, but he learned over time that a viper was always quick to spread its poison.

Scott had many regrets in his long, wearisome life, but he could never stop himself from thinking back to those days, when they were young and naive. If he had one chance to do it all again, he would change then. He would run while he still had the chance. Maybe if his eyes had been more jaded, maybe if Stiles’s anger hadn’t been so irrational, maybe they both could have guessed what was coming.

Or maybe that was a fool’s hope, because Theodore Raeken was a monster in man’s skin, and for all their fondness for heroes of legend, they were not prepared to battle evil.

In another ancient world, there was a name for when it all started, but modern man called it the autumnal equinox, when the harvest moon was at its peak and there was no room for superstition when magic filled the air. Every corner of the castle was alight with energy, even if this year tiny white flowers joined the decorations to mark the passing of a cherished one. Scott let himself get swept up in the celebration, laughing like he hadn’t in months. No one would make merry if the king still mourned, and Scott always tried to keep his heartache to himself. 

“I love you.” Theo said, not the first time and certainly not the last, but for years to come, Scott would remember how he looked, illuminated by the firelight and bathed in moonlight, like something out of a dream - or perhaps a nightmare. Then everything went black, and the king had no idea he was the only one who’d been struck blind.

Scott flung his hands out in front of himself, trying to grasp on to something solid as everything was swallowed in utter darkness. It was like the world had disappeared completely and he was falling, tumbling backwards into nothingness with only the certainty of a hard landing when he least expected it. The impact knocked the air from his lungs and he groped for support, hands running over sticky liquid and broken limbs.

No, it was broken branches damp with sap that clung to his fingers with the sharp scent of pine. He’d fallen among the boughs, still soft and green where they’d fallen to the forest floor. This was madness, he had lost his mind to wine and revelry. Or was this some after effect of his lingering grief that he’d tried to mask with his smile? Slowly, the king picked himself up off the ground, brushing the dirt from the velvet of his surcoat. One of the sharp green needles caught in his hand, stabbing deep enough into the skin to make him gasp in surprise before he pulled it from his palm. Ruby red welled from the tiny wound, bright against the dark of his skin.

No dream or hallucination, then. Was this… magic?

“Theo?” His voice had a strange echo to it in this place, like the woods were whispering his words back to him. “Stiles?” The branches overhead rustled like something moved through them and Scott tensed, hand on the short sword at his waist. He pulled the weapon free from its leather, tightening his grip around the hilt hard enough to leave an imprint. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

The trees just laughed at him, or maybe it was the wind. Light and shadow played tricks on his eyes and Scott wasn’t sure if there were things moving deep in the darkness or if it was just fear. He set his shoulders, circling the little clearing slowly as the bushes moved and swayed around him.  _Something_  was here keeping pace with every step, stalking his movements with practiced precision. An animal. Something worse. What could live in a fey forest?

The growl trickled out of the leaves, breath hot against his skin and Scott jerked back with the sword held ready. The beat snarled, though the sounds almost seemed human like it was trying to speak to him. It lunged and Scott struck, whirling back as he hacked at the beast with a shout. Those lessons in war and combat had paid off and his body moved with a memory of its own even if his mind was numb.

Scott had no way of knowing that the floor was aflame, no way of knowing that a thousand screams echoed through the night. His life depended on keeping back a monster, and its desperate snarl told him his blade was true. Victory was close, so close, but pain bloomed across his chest. Scott was choking before he understood what happened, coppery blood spilling into his mouth. Cold steal pierced him from behind, cutting through lung and the even pace of his heart. His back bowed in a graceful arch, and the world spun around him.

“Your majesty! Your majesty! SCOTT!” 

Sound rushed back all at once, sharp and shrill, like a fog had lifted. Scott blinked away sleep, one hand going to his abdomen, surprised to find his shirt stained and in tatters, but the skin whole. It didn’t matter. His best friend was spread out before him, body broken and torn. Angry slashes carved through his chest, mouth still twisted in a silent scream. Stiles’s eyes were gone, leaving behind nothing more than bloody craters, and Scott’s hands were covered in his blood.

His entire world tipped sideways, the ground beneath his feet crumbling, and Scott lost track of what happened next. His memories were lost to time. He forgot that he screamed himself hoarse, forgot that Stiles’s father had to pull him away. He forgot the gentle way his husband held him, trying to calm him. He forgot his court’s relief at his survival, and the nasty rumors that spread over his jilted lover’s insanity.

There was one thing he couldn’t forgot, because he never saw it. He never saw Theo wipe his blade clean.

It was explained to him later, that Stiles attacked him after setting the festival ablaze. The knight had gone mad, so many claimed, perhaps even possessed. It wasn’t his fault, they told Scott. Love was sometimes ugly and twisted, but the head guardsman quietly resigned, and Scott never got to say goodbye. Theo never left his side.

Scott couldn’t wake up. Days and nights blurred in an unending nightmare that dragged him down in bloody arms. Stiles was dead and it was all his fault, he’d driven his best friend to madness by choosing duty over love. He’d known that the other man was jealous and possessive, he loved the way that it fueled their stolen moments and left him breathlessly laughing for hours afterwards. Stiles had written his name in Scott’s skin, love bites and scrapes, the gentlest of caresses and the deepest bruises. They had sat atop the highest tower in the castle, sneaking away to hold hands and look out over the kingdom that could never truly belong to the both of them and promised each other forever. They had known everything about each other since childhood, but now Scott didn’t think he knew Stiles at all.

He drifted through the castle like half of him was missing, a broken jagged piece that could never be whole again. There was no more laughter, no sunshine smiles. No stupid jokes and pranks they’d never grown out of no matter how old they’d gotten. At night, he could almost feel Stiles’s lips against his ear, whispering sweet and filthy words. Scott carded his fingers through his best friend’s hair, arching into the other man’s touch and laughing at the sheer joy of having Stiles back in his arms where he belonged.

“ _I’ve missed you. Don’t leave me again_.”

“ _I’d never leave you, I promised.”_

But Stiles’s smile would grow hollowed and fanged like the fey beast that had attacked when he was lost in his hallucination. His eyes would well with tears, blood dripping down his pale cheeks as he blinked and they were gone. Empty sockets stared at the king, Stiles’s lips peeled back into a snarl.

“ _You did this to me!_ ”

Scott would wake screaming as he did every night, pulled tight into Theo’s arms as his husband ran his hands down Scott’s trembling body to calm him. He let his king sob until he was spent and passive, wiping his face clean and kissing along the other man’s jaw.

Theo watched with a clinical sort of detachment, whispering words of encouragement with practiced smiles that didn’t meet his eyes, biding his time until he was convinced that Scott was wholly and indisputably his. He was a patient man, but he had his limits.

“It’s over, Scott.” All it took was a solemn word, and the king would soon realize his troubles had just begun. “It’s time to stop.”

Scott froze, chagrined and embarrassed for his grief. “I’m sorry, Theo. I’m trying, but I can’t. I miss him. I miss them so much.”

He’d expected many things, but not Theo’s anger, not the cruelty of his hands. Scott gasped reeling back, as his husband grabbed him by the throat, his entire countenance wracked with rage. “Enough! It’s time to move on. I order you to forget.”

“Theo! _”_ Scott snarled, forcing his frantic heart to calm, but he didn’t recognize the man in front of him, no matter how he tried.

“It’s over, Scott! It’s over. You no longer care for your dead whore! You will forget everything about him! You’re mine now. You’re MINE!” 

Scott backhanded him across the face, pushing his husband away and scrambling off their bed. For the first time, his grief gave way to something else, thoughts of madness and curses dancing through his head, but they didn’t last long when Theo lunged, slamming him into the wall.

“WHAT DID YOU DO!? OBEY ME!” 

Panic and fear left the headiest drug, as strong as the grip curled around his throat. Survival was his only goal, thrown against an adversary that meant to destroy him. Scott was faster. Scott was a monster.

“By the gods…” The king’s consort keeled over, blood spilling past his fingers as he clutched his hand to his chest. Scott watched in horror as his husband’s body slid off the edge of his sword. “No, no, no no Theo, please Theo.”

Scott’s hands trembled as he tried to stem the bleeding. “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

He heard his pulse fade. He watched his husband die in front of him weeks after losing his best friend. Madness was a mercy, and Scott was certain that once he started screaming, he would never stop. The young king clawed at his arms, like he had any hope of tearing the blood off his skin.

The guards had to restrain Scott in his grief until he exhausted himself, slumping between them in a stupor. They sent for a healer who treated his wounds, but couldn’t reach his mind as far back as his thoughts retreated. He lay insensible for days, numb to keep the pain at bay until he slowly crept towards awareness. The servants watched him in fear, unsure if their king would ever heal from his madness or if he’d lash out again in a murderous rage.

It was weeks before Scott was well enough to take the throne, gaunt and weary, but determined to keep his kingdom safe. The Raekens massed threateningly along his borders, testing for weaknesses and revenge for the death of their son at King Scott’s hands. He responded with diplomacy instead of with violence, stepping out of his self-imposed isolation long enough to pay a blood price and make amends. His apologies were sincere. No one was supposed to die, not ever. Not Stiles, not Theo. The people he had trusted most and he had failed them both. Placated, the Raekens finally withdrew and Scott returned to the castle.

He ruled for many years, the lonely king. He was gentle and kind, even if his court hushed nervously around him and whispers persisted of his flashes of insanity. There was no one who could punish a king, but they had all seen the body of his consort, run through with a sharp blade in their very own bed. Scott never explained or admitted Theo’s attack, blaming himself for what had happened even if it had been self-defense. Theo was dead by his hand, the least he could do was keep from slandering his husband’s name on top of everything else he’d done.

The gossip never stopped. There was always something strange about the young man after the death of his consort and his knight, like he’d been removed from the world even though he still walked through it. It unnerved his people who followed their ruler, but the stories grew about his strangeness. The beast that lurked within their quiet king.

It only became worse as the years passed. As all kingdoms do, King Scott’s fell into a period of hardship. The first fall with a poor harvest was met with grumbles, but the harsh winter that followed brought angry murmurs. Suspicion turned to the strange king, who despite his gentle and generous nature continued to warrant more and more fear. Any ruler was an easy target for blame, but Scott was exceptional even then, for in all the years since he’d taken his crown, the young man hadn’t aged a day.

As the world around him shifted, Scott endured in perpetual youth. One by one he lost the people he trusted the most, and they were already few and far between. He outlived his counselors and advisers as old men grew older, and the young feared those who didn’t age almost as much as those who did. The tides of change were coming, and for all his peculiarities, Scott couldn’t hold it back. 

Another bad year and the peasants rebelled, driven by fear and desperation. They tore down the castle walls and burned a path through a too quiet castle. Scott never had the chance to run. The people he served tore him from his bed, with a chorus of jeers and taunts. Scott fought because his life depended on it, ears ringing with hateful chanting.

_Burn the Witch King! BURN THE WITCH KING!_

In the center of the castle courtyard, where his people once made merry, stood a large wooden stake. Vicious hands broke bones and doused him in oil. Scott couldn’t scream as molten steel was poured down his throat, scalding his mouth, his jaw broken under crushing grips. “Stop!” He tried to beg, as the first torch was lit. "STOP STOP!”

But part of him wondered if it would be easier just to slip away. At least then, he’d be able to see his family again. Heat seared his skin, melting flesh off his bone. He fought until his strength broke, slumping against tight binds and begging for the end. Begging for mercy.

Stiles was gone, but that was okay. Scott would find him again.

  
  


It was a muggy day, in the early twenty first century. The last of the day’s light was leaving Beacon Hills, and Detective Grzegorz “Stiles” Stilinski of the Beacon Hills Police Department tiredly ran his hand through his hair, scowling at his partner. “Really, Tate? This couldn’t wait until after dinner?”

Detective Malia Tate arched a brow so sharp, Stiles thought he’d cut himself on it. “Deal with it. It’s a messy one.”

Stiles let out an exasperated sigh that she chose to ignore. The uniforms were already sealing off the crime zone, but someone caught his eye, just over the yellow tape. With big doe eyes and an unhappy frown, Stiles was willing to bet the floppy haired college student had never seen anything like this out of television. Poor guy.

“Well, let’s get this show on the road.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find Dans's awesome fics [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune's stuff [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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